And So, She Blossomed
by RedDahlias
Summary: An early life full of change and confusion shaped her into what she became as a nation. Her identity loss, the journey for self discovery, her mixed feelings for the very man that snatched her for his own selfish desires, it all helped her grow. A story of her early life, and its telling of a marred existence.


Chapter 1

It was as if the Gods had sealed her fate for her, bestowing her with dark brown wavy hair and an ideal nose shape. She looked different than all the other girls in the Empire; they had the straight raven hair and hooked nose that was common among the Aztecs. She would often question her mother as to why she looked the way she did, and in reply, her mother would respond with a sullen:

"You're too young to understand, one day, you'll realize that you look the way you do for a reason, little one."

This puzzled her; as the daughter of the great Aztec Empire, she was ashamed of not inheriting the features of the fierce beauty. She was looked down upon, though she was not mistreated by her people, she knew they would stare and gossip when her back was turned; she wasn't as naïve as they thought her to be, she knew she was different and it pained her to know that her mother hadn't even bothered to give her a proper name, her reason being that it would be futile, for there was almost no time left for them all anyways. What her mother meant by that, she knew not. She was called Tenochtitlan, or whatever endearment her mother felt like calling her, and for the first few years of her life, Tenochtitlan lived in ignorance. It wasn't until the end of Montezuma's reign that things began to fit into place.

The streets ran red with the blood of the fierce, the proud, and the innocent. Tenochtitlan was horrified, and as her city blazed with crimson, gold tinged flames, her first instinct was to look for her mother. Desperation surged through her being, and she began to run. She didn't care which direction, as long as she wasn't immobile; she wasn't going to stand vulnerable for _his_ men to kill her too.

"Mother! Mother! Please, Mother, where are you?" she cried frantically, almost stumbling on the rubble from one of the stone buildings. She couldn't even tell what its purpose had been, it was completely mutilated.

She couldn't run into the lush jungles, there were too many Spanish soldiers lurking about in there. Tenochtitlan stopped in her tracks to think for a brief second, whipping her head in whatever direction to find someplace to hide. Her mother would scorn her cowardice, but she wanted to live and see another day, not die at the hand of a foreigner whose selfishness was responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. She stayed immobile for too long though, because in the midst of her confusion and sorrow, she felt burly arms wrap around her waist and hoist her up unceremoniously. She flailed uncontrollably, beating and hurting her hands upon the silver armor the mercenary wore. He threw her over his shoulder and called out to who appeared to be his commanding officer.

"We've got a live one, sir! Huh, she's pretty, what shall we do with her?"

He grabbed her bottom roughly and gave it a firm squeeze, evoking a shrill squeal from her.

"Put her down Flores, this one's different."

She couldn't see the man who gave the order, but she was back on her feet within seconds. Regaining her composure, she glared at the mercenary who had her in his clutches not even minutes ago. Her eyes shifted from his burly build to his marred face. She took a few steps back from him and readied herself to run again.

"There are going to be consequences if you try to run."

She stopped in her pitiful endeavor and snapped her head up to face the man who threatened her. It was him, the bastard that started the entire massacre. He was younger than most of his subordinates, with a clean shaven face and what appeared to be a lean frame underneath his armor. What startled her most were his green eyes. They weren't like the dull brown eyes of the Aztecs or the hazel hued orbs of the Spanish. They intrigued her; they held so much mischief and thought, it drew her in. She made the dire choice of letting her guard down, maybe he'd explain what was going on.

"Why are you doing this?" She inquired, her temper boiling.

He chuckled softly and removed his helmet.

"Why, for you of course. My boss wants the gold and the land, I want you. This land is now part of Spain."

She scoffed at his reply, and shakily ran her hands through her hair. This man led an army of mercenaries, to pillage her land, to suck it dry of its resources, and for his own selfish desires. Her breathing became erratic, and her composure and collectiveness diminished.

"I hate you! I hate you!" She repeated over and over again, throwing punches at his armored chest before giving into the pain of the bruises that formed on her hand. She sobbed against his chest, mumbling incoherent curses.

"There, there bella," He soothed, stroking her disheveled hair, "everything will be fine once we get home."

She looked up at him, her face scrunched up in a scowl.

"I am home…" she trailed off softly.

His ecstatic grin only worried and frightened her even more.


End file.
